


One of 28 Young Ballerinas...

by TaraHarkon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ballet, Natasha Feels, Natasha Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Room, uncle Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraHarkon/pseuds/TaraHarkon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four year old James Rogers has found something new he wants to learn. What happens when that happens to be the thing tied into most of his mother's worst memories?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The red-headed boy bounced on his toes, watching his parents train with the rest of their team. His mind wasn’t on that though. He was still thinking back to the previous Friday night spent with Auntie Pepper. She had decided that he needed more culture in his life and taken him to see a show. Since then, he’d thought of nothing else. Once again, he bounced on his toes and then tried to mimic the steps he’d seen. It was hard to stay up on his toes like that, especially in his light-up trainers. Trying again, he managed it for a bit longer. Then he put his arms over his head on the next attempt, just like they had on the stage. That was when Natasha looked over.

* * *

If there was one truth about raising a child as an Avenger, it was that it did wonders for Natasha’s ability to focus on several things at once. Don’t get hit with your husband’s shield. Check. Pin Barton to the mat. Check. Make sure your son hasn’t gotten into anything dangerous. Check. She glanced over at James one more time as she dropped to slide between Steve’s legs. She froze then. _Fifth position._ Her mind supplied the words unbidden and she only barely stopped the fist coming at her face. Luckily, Steve noticed the change and pulled up.  
“Tasha?”  
She stood and tried to shake her head to clear it, but it wouldn’t clear. She could see the barre in her mind, could hear the instructors. _But none of that was real, was it?_  
“I’m…I’m alright.”  
The lie wasn’t a convincing one, but Steve followed her eyes and took in the same sight. James was now trying to balance on one foot, a difficult enough challenge for a four year old, but he also had one arm out in front of him. It was impossible to mistake that the boy was trying to mimic ballet and that it was shaking Natasha to the core.

* * *

James tried to jump like he’d seen and fell, rolling across the ground with a little giggle. He was still at the age when falls were alright, fun even. His parents fell all the time and they never cried or anything, so why would he? Pulling himself back to his feet, he spun in place and then realized the room had gone quiet. Looking over, he realized that the Avengers were all staring at him. With a little giggle, he gave a bow and then ran over to his parents.  
“Did you see? I danced!”

* * *

Natasha took a shaky breath.  
“Yeah, yeah you did.”  
She tried to smile, tried anything not to let the internal panic that was taking over her mind come out. _One of 28 ballerinas training with the Bolshoi…NO. That_ wasn’t _real._ James ran to her, looking so proud of himself, so happy.   
“Take a break, Nat. Get some water. Alright?”  
There was concern in Steve’s voice and Natasha cursed inwardly at being the one putting it there. Not over something stupid like this. She was supposed to be strong, an Avenger. Avengers didn’t break just because a little boy wanted to dance. James put his arms up for her to scoop him up and she did, holding him close. Once they were clear of the training area, the others went back to work. She sat them both on one of the benches on the side and she took a long swig from her water bottle.  
“James… Where…where did you learn that?”  
He kicked his feet happily, not noticing the strain in her voice.  
“Auntie Pepper took me to see the ballet in the city. It was really great. I wanted to try.” He gave her a huge grin. “It was like watching you and Daddy.”  
Natasha tried to hold her emotions in check, tried to keep her mind all in one place. She _would not_ melt down in front of her son and that was the only thing holding her together right now. Then he smiled again and bounced off to the bench.  
“Can I learn it, Mommy? Are there lessons? Like…like a school for ballet?”  
Every thought in her mind scattered, leaving only silence and the tapping of the beat as a woman called the positions. The sound of ballet slippers on the hard wooden floor as they moved from position to position. _First position._ Gun shots ringing out and slamming into flesh. _Second position._ Blood splattering over her face. _Third position._ Her target fell to the floor and she got one of the rare smiles from their instructors. Every shot through the heart. _Fourth position._ Squaring off against the Wolf Spider. He was mad. Worse, she knew he was mad. _Fifth position._ The Wolf Spider program got shut down. Too many casualties among the students. The serum didn’t work properly on males, it seemed. _Arabesque._ The sound of something crunching in her hands. A sharp snap. The lifeless girl dropped away from Natasha’s arms _and she took a bow, taking in the applause._  
“Mommy?”  
The water bottle fell from her fingers and rolled across the floor.  
“ _Mommy?!”_

* * *

“Daddy! Daddy help! Something’s wrong with Mommy!” James grabbed Natasha’s sleeve, tugging on it while he looked over his shoulder and called for his father.  
Steve looked over, startled by the terrified tone and dropped his shield as he ran to them.  
“Tasha. Tasha, what’s wrong? Hey, I’m right here. Come on, its okay.”  
James was starting to cry now, tears staining his freckled cheeks.  
“Did I do something wrong, Daddy?”  
“What? No! James, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
Looking around for a frantic moment, Steve spotted Bucky and waved his friend over. He didn’t even need to ask the question. Bucky just scooped the four year old up in his arms.  
“Come on, kid, lets go get you a juice. Your Dad’s gonna make sure your Mom’s alright, okay?”  
James was still crying as he clung to Bucky.  
“Is there something wrong with ballet, Uncle Bucky?” 

* * *

If it wasn’t for the fact that Steve was very used to sparring with Natasha for training, she would have flipped him when he reached to touch her cheek. That was when she finally snapped out of it. She swore under her breath, the word coming out unexpectedly in Russian. His arms went around her and she clung to him for support.  
“Natasha, what happened? Are you alright?”  
“It…I…” She took a deep breath. “Remember what I told you? About the Red Room?”  
Her voice was still shaky, but distant. Almost as though she was trying to pretend she was talking about someone else.  
“I remember.”  
“James…wants to start ballet lessons.”  
Her voice cracked on the word and Steve held her tighter, hoping that would help her hold it together. She didn’t breakdown like this much, hadn’t really at all since the one and only time Wanda had been in her mind. It was a testament to her strength that she could hold herself together despite the mess the Red Room had made of her mind and her memories.  
“We can tell him no, if you want.”  
She shook her head.  
“You didn’t see him…he loves it.” She buried her face in his chest and took another deep breath, trying to regain her self control. “And…it…might be good for me, you know?”  
Steve kissed her forehead.  
“I’ll find a school if he wants to go. And we can build you up to going there slowly. I’ll see if Sam’s got any ideas. Okay?”  
“Yeah. Just…Steve?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Not a Russian one, okay?” 


	2. Chapter 2

James Rogers dropped his bag on the floor and ran into the living room.  
“Mommy!”  
He had only been gone for a few hours, sure, but that was a long time in the life of a child. Especially for a child who’s parents might disappear at any time for any manner of mission. Natasha had turned the moment the door opened, already had her arms out as the little boy leapt into the air for a hug. He was still wearing the little tights and leotard he’d gotten for dancing and he wiggled excitedly as she subconsciously checked him over for injury just as she did every time she saw him again.  
“How was class?”  
Steve came in the door just a moment after James did, taking the small bag to go put it aside where he could take care of things later.  
“It was great, Mommy! The instructor is really really nice and he said that he thinks I’ve got natural talent.”  
The gap-tooth smile was infectious as was the wild pride in his voice as he mimicked his teacher’s tone and words.  
“Is that so?”  
“Yup! Can I show you? Can I? Can I?”  
She tensed, letting him squirm out of her grip.  
“Remember what I said, buddy. Go slow with Mommy.”  
Steve was right there again, his eyes on Natasha. She smiled a little, trying to keep herself calm.  
“It’s alright, Steve. I’m okay. Go on, James, lets see what you learned.”  
He fidgeted a little, uncertain for half a moment.  
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Mommy? You promise promise promise?”  
“I promise.”

* * *

 James took to the stage like a moth to the flame, but Natasha was afraid she was the one who would burn. He had grown tall like his father but the red headed boy had his mother’s build and her grace. There was no doubt about that. She stood in the back of the small theatre, close to the exit with Steve at her side as they watched James dance. He looked so free, like he was flying. Natasha tried to block the music from her mind, tried to pretend she didn’t know the piece from some of the false memories that swam in the madness that was her mind. Had she ever actually heard Swan Lake before this? She would never know. As the song came to a close, Steve squeezed her hand gently and then let go. That she had managed this long was a testament to her will.

* * *

 

 He took a bow at center stage and looked up into the crowd. It was impossible to miss his father leaning against the wall in the back. Alone. For a moment, James felt the same sense of disappointment he always felt. He remembered sitting at the feet of his Uncle Bucky once and asking why his mother, who could face aliens and super villains and robots and Aunt Pepper, was afraid of dancing.   
 _  
“Its not so much that she’s afraid of the dancing, James.” Bucky had chosen his words carefully, not wanting to reveal more than Natasha was alright with her son knowing about her just yet. “It’s the memories that go with it. Once upon a time, there were bad people and they made your mother do very bad things. And she doesn’t remember all of it because they made her remember being a dancer instead. She’s afraid of the things that she does remember and of the things she doesn’t.”  
_ _“Is Mommy afraid that if I learn to dance, I’ll do bad things too?”  
_ _“Not you, buddy, never you. You don’t have a bad bone in your whole body. You’re too much like your Daddy for that.” Bucky had reached out to muss his little namesake’s hair then. “No, she’s afraid that she’s going to…forget that she’s not still there. And maybe do something like what they used to make her do.”  
_ _James had frowned, hugging even tighter to his little teddy bear.  
_ _“But Mommy doesn’t do bad things.”  
_ _“I know that and you know that, but sometimes…sometimes if you’ve done a lot of bad things, its easy to be afraid you’re going to slip back into that no matter how much you don’t want to.”  
_ _There was a darkness in Bucky’s eyes then, but the little boy didn’t notice. He just nodded, trying to assimilate the words in the context to his mother._

Then he spotted a flicker of movement. Red hair, a black leather jacket, darting out the door as the last chords died away. She _had_ come after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth on whether or not to write this chapter for a while. It was partially written in my head when I initially posted the first chapter I wasn't sure if the first part was ready for more, or if Natasha was. I didn't want to magically 'fix' Natasha or put a timetable on how long it takes for her to be able to handle her past. PTSD is not a thing you can just 'get over' and I don't want the story to come off as though she has. 
> 
> I left James' age at the end vague on purpose and even then, Natasha still isn't totally comfortable with everything. Unless there are any edits to be made, I think that this story is now well and truly told.

**Author's Note:**

> I would really love comments on this piece, particularly about the foray into Natasha's mind. I'm not certain about parts of it and I'm seriously considering a re-write for the ending (already). If you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to sound off. Thanks! I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
